


You've got a friend.

by juliusschmidt



Series: harry, you little shit [3]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Dubious Consent, Friendship, Hand Jobs, M/M, Scenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-21
Updated: 2013-09-21
Packaged: 2017-12-27 05:38:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/975071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juliusschmidt/pseuds/juliusschmidt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not that Harry doesn't want to talk. It's just, there are other things he'd rather be doing with Louis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You've got a friend.

Harry should suspect something’s off when he opens his eyes to an empty room. His phone says they’ve got an hour and a half until morning rehearsal and Zayn never gets out of bed before he absolutely must. But for some reason the bunks are all empty.

Harry’s got a message from Louis.

_Txt me_

Harry has no idea what that’s supposed to mean. Well, obviously it means that Louis wants Harry to text him. Still, Harry’s really confused because why is Louis texting Harry to text him at 8:30 in the morning when they sleep in the same goddamn room?

Harry texts Louis: _dude_

And, well, it’s better than the ‘fuck off’ he was considering. It’s too fucking early for Louis’ games.

Harry looks over the side of his bunk, down to the floor. It’s a long way away and his bunk is pretty cozy. Also, he’s woken with a boner he’d really like to take care of, especially seeing as he has the unusual luxury of their room all to himself.

He’s got time, too. He doesn’t really need to eat before rehearsal. He can always grab a banana and cereal bar on his way out the door. There’s always food around, anyway.

He slides a hand under his blankets and into his shorts, wrapping it around his already half hard cock. An image of Louis’ smile flashes before him, and Harry’s sure it’s the same smile Louis had thrown over his shoulder at Harry the night before as he pulled off his shirt in a lewd and overdramatic imitation of a strip show.

Harry wonders how Louis manages to be so sexy _and_ so obnoxious at the same time. Harry moves his hand slowly, too slowly, probably, considering one of the boys might walk in at any moment, and he thinks about how it’d felt to touch Louis. He thinks about the heat of Louis’ dick against his palm and the warmth of Louis’ breath against his ear. He remembers the way he’d been wrapped in Louis’ scent and the way Louis’ knot had swelled up for him.

His phone buzzes. Harry turns his head to look at the lit screen. _Wait_ , Louis has sent him.

And, just like that, Harry’s hand stills on his dick. Except, he realizes, there’s no way Louis can mean it that way. He can’t know what Harry’s doing. Usually, Harry masturbates in the shower. He’s not enough of an exhibitionist to get off in bed, where the others could find him.

But he imagines that Louis _might_ be thinking about Harry in bed with his hand down his shorts and he decides he might as well wait, just to see. Louis owes him a handjob anyway.

“Fuck, Harry,” Louis says, walking into the room, already dressed for the day in jeans and tee-shirt. “You don’t waste any time do you, mate?”

Harry smiles at Louis and resumes wanking. Louis’ aroused, too. Harry can smell it on him.  

Louis stands at the end of the bunk for several long seconds just watching Harry, his eyes moving from Harry’s face to the bulge in the blanket where he must be able to see the movement Harry’s arm as he tugs, careful and deliberate, at his cock. 

“You coming up here or what?” Harry asks. He flicks his thumb over the head of his dick and bites at his bottom lip.

Louis nods. “Sure, yeah, definitely coming.” He throws off his shirt and begins to unbutton his jeans.

Harry shakes his head, impatient, and says, “Louis.” It comes out as a whine. Or, actually, Harry notes with pleasure, because his voice is deepening, it’s more of a growl.

Louis pauses halfway up the ladder. “Actually,” he says. “Maybe we should talk first.”

Nope, that’s not at all what Harry wants, so he begins to thrust his hips up into fist with pointed, dramatic movements. “You better talk quickly.”

Louis doesn’t hesitate, tackling Harry hard enough that the whole bed groans.

“This bed’s shit. We should be in mine.” Louis is pinning Harry to the mattress, spread out awkwardly on top him, a hand on Harry’s shoulder and a knee dangerously close to Harry’s groin. Harry bucks a bit.

Louis shifts off and tucks himself in beside Harry. Then, he slips his arm underneath the duvet and dives a hand into Harry’s shorts so that he’s covering Harry’s fist with his own. They move together, gripping tightly, up and down Harry’s cock. Into Harry’s ear, Louis murmurs, “You’re so fucking sexy and you smell so fucking good that sometimes I can’t even breathe around you without getting hard.”

“Like yesterday?” Harry asks, voice hitching. “In the kitchen?”

That’d had been fun. He’d backed Louis up against the counter and then pressed them together, hard, front to front, only to reach up over Louis for a bowl in a high cabinet. They hadn’t been alone and, afterwards, Louis’ boner had been obvious through his sweats.

Louis twists their hands on Harry’s dick and Harry gasps.

“You like that?” Louis asks and does it again before Harry has a chance to reply.

“Fuck, yeah,” Harry says, writhing a little in the tangled sheets. Louis feels so good, talks so good, smells so good. Louis’ still got his boxers on and Harry can see the outline of his hard dick straining against them. He needs to get them the fuck off because Harry wants to feel that dick.

“Louis,” he moans, eyes shutting, “So good.”  He reaches blindly for Louis’ crotch with his free hand, but Louis grabs his wrist.

“This is all about you,” he says and so Harry gives in, letting Louis take care of him. It isn’t long before his balls are tightening and his spine is tingling. He comes with his eyes closed and, he realizes as he listens to himself gasp for breath, he’s really fucking loud, probably has been the whole time.

Louis wraps himself around Harry and Harry’s whole body feels warm and gooey, like he’s being immersed in a vat of hot cocoa. Louis buries his face in Harry’s neck and he thrusts his cock weakly against Harry’s hip.

“I could come like this, Harry, just from the smell of you,” Louis says. Harry runs his hands along Louis’ back and up into his hair. Against him, Louis tenses, shuddering softly, and then, a moment later, relaxes completely. Harry can feel the wet warmth of Louis come seeping through his sleep shirt onto his stomach.

Louis rasps, “Jesus, what are you doing to me?”

Harry hums and kisses him on the cheek. He wonders if now maybe they should talk, like Louis said. But even as he thinks it, he realizes that Louis’ breathing has evened out. He’s asleep.

They can talk another time. Or they can not. Preferably ‘not.’

~

Harry sits down on the couch next to Zayn and nuzzles into his shoulder. He’s tired and Zayn smells homey, like the cigarettes his grandmother used to smoke.

Zayn’s got his sketch book on his lap and is doodling a pattern with lots of twists and swirls. On the opposite page superman flies across a cloudy sky. Or maybe, when Harry looks closer, it’s supposed to be Louis in that stupid superman costume he wore for their last video diary.

“What’s it?” Harry asks.

Zayn’s marker stills. “Nothing.”

“That would make a cool sleeve,” Harry says.

Zayn nods. “Yeah. I’ve got some other ideas I like better though.”

Harry loves tattoos, loves the idea of his identity expressed in pictographs on his skin, of his body being a scrapbook containing permanent reminders of the most important moments in his life. Unfortunately, most tattoo parlors won’t serve unbonded omegas, not if they can tell. It’s a bit of a financial risk. There’ve been one too many court cases instigated by angry alpha bondmates, wanting early, pre-bond shit removed from their omegas on the parlors’ dollar.

It’s different for bonded omegas. The more he reads up on this whole business, the more he realizes that, in many ways, a bond has the potential to be freeing. A bonded omega can do anything a beta can, _granted they have their alpha’s permission._

Harry traces his finger over one of the swirls in Zayns design. Zayn bats his hand away. “You’ll smudge it.”

Then Zayn says, “I see you, Styles. I see you and Tommo.”

Harry stiffens. He frowns at Zayn. “You do everything with us. Of course you see us.”

“All I’m saying is Louis got me and Niall and even Liam to agree to this elaborate panty stealing prank yesterday morning. I pulled my arse out of bed before the sun was up for chrissake. And then Louis disappeared halfway through the pulling of the prank without a goddamn word to any of us- he left us out to dry, Harry- and when we got back to the bunks, the place smelled like jizz and Italy.”

Harry burrows his face into Zayn’s neck and hums a sound of irritation. “Calm down,” he says.

“I’m not not calm,” Zayn says, but Harry feels Zayn’s shoulders relax a little and smiles. Harry wraps his arms around Zayn’s middle and snuggles him closer. Beneath his fingers, Harry feels Zayns stomach contact as his breathing deepens. Hopefully, Harry thinks, Zayn’ll let it go.

He doesn’t. “Harry, this is not going to end well,” Zayn tells him, words slow and careful.

Harry speaks into the top of Zayn’s shoulder, voice muffled by his hoodie. “I like him a lot. We’re, like, gonna be real life best friends forever.” This is a good explanation, Harry thinks, mostly because it’s true, even if it’s not the whole truth.

“You’re both alphas, so it’s weird to begin with. Like, isn’t the sex a little gross?” 

“No, it’s really good, it’s really, really…” Harry says, realizing a second too late that he’s given them away. He huffs out his frustration and then says, “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

 “Okay, Harry,” Zayn says, running a hand through Harry’s hair, fingers getting lost, tangled in Harry’s curls.

~

Harry’s really tired. He went for a run earlier, because everyone’s saying they all need to stay in shape and maybe even build some muscles if they want to cut it as a boyband. And, yeah, running’s okay, but seven miles of running’s shit. He’s not used to it and he’s sore and it’s bedtime.  The lights are still on in the bunkroom. Liam’s in his pajamas with his laptop open on his stomach and all three other boys are still up and about the house, but Harry’s going to sleep.

He strips down to his shorts and climbs into his bunk. He’s beginning to drift off when he _smells_ chocolate and knows Louis is beside him. He blinks open his eyes and, sure enough, Louis’ resting his chin on the bunk, his nose an inch from Harry’s own. “We’re going for a walk,” he says.

Harry closes his eyes again. “That’s nice. You lads have fun. Imma just…”

Louis huffs a breath and it stirs the hair on Harry’s forehead. “You and I are going on a walk,” Louis clarifies.

Harry opens his eyes again. It takes effort. “Later,” he says, because that sounds nice, just not right now.

“Harry.” Louis’ voice takes a different tone, one that tugs at Harry’s limbs and has him sitting up. Louis adds, “Please,” but Harry is already pushing off the duvet.

“Hand me my sweats,” he tells Louis. Louis digs around in the pile of Harry’s dirty laundry until he comes up with a pair of sweats. As Harry pulls them on, he realizes they smell a lot like Louis. Maybe Louis’d been wearing them or sleeping with them or something, which, _okay_. Harry scratches his chest, yawns and stretches. Louis throws one of his own (dirty) white tees at Harry who wrinkles his nose, but puts it on anyway. Something low in his gut flutters at the idea of their scents mixing.

“Where are you guys going?” Liam asks.

Louis sighs, “On a walk, I’ve just said.”

Liam shifts his laptop onto the bed beside him. “Where? Where can you go? Walking, I mean. Where can you go walking?”  

Louis shift from foot to foot and doesn’t reply. Harry jumps down from the bunk. He lands hard enough that a muscle twinges in the back of his calf. “Fuck.”

Louis’ head swivels toward him and he frowns, deeply. “Are you okay?”

Harry rubs at his leg. “Yeah, just landed wrong. And I went running today. You’d better not be planning on a long walk.”

Harry suspects they won’t be walking far. He suspects there’ll be a lot more humping and moaning than walking.

Louis shrugs. “We can probably just go around the house a few times. We only need to talk.”

Harry chokes because, okay, yeah, they can _talk_.

Liam’s eyes narrow. “About what?”

“We’re going to be very naughty and get into a lot of trouble. You definitely don’t want to come with. We might even do some drugs.”

Liam frowns. Harry can tell he doesn’t know whether or not to believe Louis, but that he also definitely doesn’t want to get in trouble.

“Why didn’t you warn me off the trouble the other morning? You’re very tricky.”

“Ugh, just go to bed,” Louis says, grabbing Harry’s arm and dragging him out the door.

Harry says, “See you,” and tries to send Liam his most apologetic smile.

“Don’t you need guys need jackets?” Liam calls after them. And he’s got a point. Louis must think so too because he stops.

“I really don’t want to go back in there,” he says.

Harry nods. “Let’s just lock ourselves in the bathroom and make it quick and quiet.” He’s feeling fully awake now and, despite the ache in his muscles, his dick’s getting on board with the program.

Louis does as he suggests, leading them to the shared bathroom and locking the door. He sits on the floor, back against the sink and pats the ground, indicating for Harry to sit beside him.

Harry has a better idea. He straddles Louis, placing his knees on either side of his hips. His mouth goes straight to Louis’ neck, biting, hard, but (hopefully) not hard enough to leave marks. Louis’ head bangs against the cupboard and he moans.

But then he’s stiffening and trying to push Harry off. He says, “Stop, wait.”

Harry doesn’t want to wait so he thrusts his dick against Louis, who, he notes, is equally as hard for it as he is.

“Why stop, Lou?” he asks, right against Louis’ ear. 

Louis holds Harry’s face in his hands. Their eyes meet. The bathroom is quiet for several seconds but for the sound of their breaths, which mingle in the inches of air between them. Louis shifts his hips and the change in pressure has Harry’s dick twitching.

Louis eyes darken, but he doesn’t move. He says, “Fuck, Harry. You’re so sexy and yeah, I want to keep doing this, but I also want us to be friends.”

Harry draws a breath and nods, though Louis’ hands keep his head mostly in place. He agrees with Louis, “Friends, first. Always.”

Louis drops his hands to Harry’s sides. They’re quiet again and, as the silence lengthens, Harry can’t help it. His eyes flick down to Louis’ lips. He wants to kiss him, so he leans in.

But Louis turns his head. He says, “I absolutely want to do this, Harry, but tonight maybe we can just talk?”

Harry slides off Louis’ lap, trying not to feel disappointed. “Yeah, okay,” Harry says, not really feeling okay. He doesn’t understand why Louis has stopped them. Yeah, they’re friends, but Louis’ boner, which had been pressing insistently against Harry’s arse, had indicated he wanted to get off as badly as Harry did. Friends could get each other off, Harry thinks. That’d be a nice, friendly thing to do.

“I want our relationship to be about more than sex. Cause if it’s just sex, that could really mess things up for us and for the band. Especially because we’re both, you know, _alphas_. And I think we may have to work at it, the friendship bit, because I’ve been having some difficulty thinking with anything other than my cock when you’re around. So, yeah.” He pauses and nods.  Then he says, “I want to work on it, on our friendship. Right now.”

Harry smiles at him. That sounds nice, actually, and smart, to be intentional about being _friends_ with each other, so they don’t lose what they have. The more Harry thinks about it, the wider he smiles. Louis is really clever.  

Louis blows out a breath. “Fuck your dimples, Harry, really. Fuck them. I can’t look at you.” He closes his eyes and breathes deeply. “And fuck your scent, too, you little shit.”

Harry laughs, long, too long, and when he stops it’s uncomfortably quiet again. Louis keeps his eyes closed doesn’t say a word.

“So,” Harry begins. “Did you read Harry Potter?”  

Louis eyes open and he shoots Harry a disappointed frown. “What kind of question is that? Who are you? Jesus, Styles. ‘Did you read Harry Potter?’ My god.”

Harry pouts, but then they’re both laughing. And after that it’s easy, dry banter and family stories and music chat.

Harry’s caught off guard, losing his train of thought in the middle of his analysis of the demise of ‘NSYNC, by a pounding on the door.

“It’s Zayn,” Zayn says. “Liam’s worried you two’ve gotten frostbitten on your hour long trek without jackets. I’ve been sent out to fetch you.”

 “Shit,” Harry says. “We’re coming now.”

“I’ll just bet you are,” Zayn says and Harry thinks those puns are going to get old real fast. 

“It’s not like that,” Louis whines, opening the door, but Zayn’s already halfway down the hall, out of earshot.

Harry says, “It _is_ like that, though.”

Louis turns around to look at him. With a slow smile, he says, “Sometimes, yes. Sometimes it’s like that.” 

**Author's Note:**

> These ficlets are my happy place right now, so I expect to pop out at least a couple more. We'll see. And I'm having a blast in the X Factor era. Been having some baby Liam feels. <3


End file.
